


Joy to You and Me

by OnlyTheInevitable



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Episode: s05e04 Detour, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, One Bed (ofc), Post-Episode: s05e04 Detour, Yearning, bed sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:14:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29603010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyTheInevitable/pseuds/OnlyTheInevitable
Summary: After the events of Detour, an injured Mulder and exhausted Scully try driving back to D.C., only to end up spending the night at a motel where they continue to dance around their feelings.
Relationships: Fox Mulder & Dana Scully, Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 17
Kudos: 212
Collections: X-Files Dialogue Fanfic Exchange (2021)





	Joy to You and Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fandomsandxfiles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomsandxfiles/gifts).



> Hello! This is my fic for the 2021 dialogue exchange! Tori your prompt was so much fun, and I love that I got you after you had me last exchange! I hope I did your prompt justice <3 So sorry for the delay as well!
> 
> Prompt: “You pushed me off the bed!”
> 
> Set Post-Detour
> 
> Huge thank you to Monika, Jaime, and Annie for the beta!! I appreciate you all so much! 💜

They’d tried to get back to D.C. Really, _really_ tried, but due to high-demand, the next possible flight out wasn’t until a few days from now. Scully had lamented they should stay in Leon County until they could fly, but Mulder couldn’t shake the feeling the creature they’d just spent the night with was lurking and ready to pounce. Scully thought this was ridiculous, but upon seeing his sincere concern, agreed they could drive.

He felt a little guilty retrospectively. Mulder had been more than willing to drive, but she’d been furious upon finding out he’d driven to their motel alone in his condition even after telling her that the thing in the woods might’ve been after her. So despite the fact this was his request to drive all the way back to D.C., it was Scully who’d have to do it. If she was frustrated about that, it was occluded by her concern for his arm that he was favoring against his chest. She took an unfamiliar jacket from the back seat, told him to use it as a pillow, and gave him pills to dull the pain.

They dulled the pain so much that it felt like he’d merely blinked and the car clock went from 12:32pm to 5:50pm. He tried to blink the sleep away as he registered the car wasn’t moving. Scully also must’ve leaned over him to adjust his seat while he was sleeping because he was reclined all the way back into a lying position. 

Glancing over, he saw Scully outside the car pumping gas, adjusting her hair in the window reflection in a way that reminded him of the woman in the rain at _Tom’s Diner._ But instead of looking away, he was transfixed. It was like she was both looking at him and through him at the same time, wiping under her eyes, checking her fingers for makeup, before needlessly fixing her hair with a stifled yawn. She pulled back and his chest leapt in his chest as he wondered if he’d been caught, but her attention quickly went to the tail of the car and he realized the tank had been filled. 

For some reason unbeknownst to even himself, as soon as he heard the car door open, he squinted his eyes lightly and feigned sleep - not wanting to disrupt this moment of seeing Scully in her element. He heard her start the car and saw the fuzzy image of her putting her hand in front of the vents to make sure the heat was coming out. He then felt her tug on something in his lap up to cover his arms, and from the wafted smell alone he knew she’d covered him with her blazer, the fabric covering him poorly due to the size of the owner. A smile threatened to tug on his lips and give him away, but he managed to stay composed, even when he felt her hand stroke his hair gently. Her hand pulled away and she shut the car door. He counted to ten before peeking his eyes open, minding his injury as he eased himself up to watch her walk up to the gas station. 

He looked down and confirmed his suspicion that she’d put her blazer over him as a blanket. The smile from before finally erupted and he brought the fabric up to his face to smell the familiar comfort of her vanilla perfume. Mulder always selfishly loved the attention of Doctor Scully, but imagining her tending to him while he was sleeping made his chest swell in affection.

A bell alerted him that she was coming out of the store, and he fell back into place. The door opened and she slid into the driver’s seat while the smell of coffee filled the car. He heard a plastic crinkling sound as she took a few items out of a bag. He peeked again and saw she was placing an iced tea next to her coffee before throwing a bag of sunflower seeds into the console for him. The sight wasn’t unusual, nor the tradition of Scully grabbing them for him, but something about her doing it just because he might want them when he woke up was endearing nonetheless.

She peeled out of the parking lot in a way that threatened to make his eyes snap open. Mulder’d learned to keep comments about Scully’s driving and parking to himself, but she was a bit of an aggressive driver. He could feel in his seat as she sped down the highway and passed cars going ‘too slow’. If his intuition was correct, she was at least trying to keep a steady tempo, as if not to disturb him. 

Mulder laid like that, listening to the gentle sounds of Scully occupying herself while she drove, for probably about an hour. They spent an inordinate amount of time in cars together, but he liked hearing little things she did when she thought he was asleep. She finished her coffee early on, and instead started humming to herself, changing the radio station frequently until she found something she liked - evidenced by the way her fingers would pad along to the rhythm. 

In all their years together, he wasn’t sure he’d heard her hum or sing as much as he had in the last twenty-four hours. Her song preferences- as evidenced by last night- surprised him, but he liked learning these little details about Scully he hadn’t considered before. 

His eyes snapped open as the thought sunk in. She’d sung to him _all last night._ Mulder realized with a dread in his gut, that she hadn’t slept for over a day. She’d watched over him last night, and the night before that they’d been up late because of the case. Suddenly her request to check into a motel in Florida, the coffee, and the yawning all made sense. “Scully, you’re exhausted,” he stated firmly, quickly sitting up in his seat.

“Jesus!” she jumped, taking a hand off the wheel to grab her heart. “I’m driving here, Mulder,” she reprimanded.

“I wish you would’ve let me instead. You should have been the one sleeping,” he stated apologetically, trying to keep his irritation at her selflessness out of his voice. Upon looking at her, even through the dim glow of the evening, he could see her exhaustion plain as day. The circles under her eyes were pronounced and even the way she was carrying herself was lethargic and subdued. 

“Mulder, you shouldn’t have even driven earlier,” she chided.

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you when you said we should have gotten a motel in Florida. You were right, I was probably being paranoid,” he sighed, annoyed with himself.

She must have heard that in his tone because she turned to look at him, her face illuminated temporarily by an overhead lamplight. “I’ve learned over the years that it’s wise to mind your hunches, Mulder. It’s okay,” she replied, trying fruitlessly to comfort him.

“Let’s pull over and get a motel,” he said, adjusting his seat so he was sitting up fully.

“But-” she started, as if she was going to argue. “Are you sure?” she said instead, the exhaustion speaking reason into her.

“I’m sure. I’m really sorry, Scully,” he replied. 

“You’ll be even more sorry if you keep apologizing,” she warned, flicking her turn signal to take the exit off 92 and head into the town they were passing by.

They’d made it all the way to Douglasville, Georgia, and Scully quickly found a ‘Royal Inn’ to stop at. She said she’d get their bags collected if he could go inside and book them some rooms. 

He’d agreed and, just their luck, the motel was booked except one room. Glancing outside through the window and seeing Scully stifle a yawn as she put stuff back into the plastic bag from earlier, he decided he’d take anything and sleep anywhere if it meant he could get Scully into a bed sooner.

The manager gave him their key, and Mulder quickly went back into the parking lot to help Scully. “I’m sorry, they only have one room,” he lamented, grabbing his bag from her with his good arm. “What?” he replied after hearing her exhale a laugh.

“You used my lap as a pillow and slept in my arms last night, Mulder. I think I can handle you lying next to me,” she replied, rolling her eyes with a playful smile. 

He couldn’t help but smirk at that, when she put it that way, it did seem ridiculous he’d been worried about it. There was just something about sharing a bed with her that felt so intimate, so domestic that it felt taboo for him to admit how nice the thought sounded.

“You’re right,” he nodded, adding, “We’re in A3,” with the nod of his head.

They made their way into the room, which was just as cramped and mediocre as he anticipated. “Do you mind if I take a shower?” she asked, setting her bag onto the bed.

“No, go ahead,” he replied, shaking his head.

“How’s your arm?” she asked, her question punctuated by the sound of her zipper as she rummaged through her clothes.

Mulder started taking off his shoes to distract himself from his urge to steal a glance into her bag and shrugged. “Alright.”

“I’m just glad it’s not broken, you’re lucky,” she replied before muttering an expletive under her breath. 

“You okay?” he asked, turning to look at her, catching an expression of embarrassment on her face before she subdued it.

“The only pair of pyjamas I brought aren’t my normal kind,” she sighed.

Unsure of how to respond, he awkwardly replied, “Is there something wrong with them?”

“It’s a nightie,” was her short answer.

If he was being honest, he didn’t know what that meant, but his mind raced with images of sheer mesh and velvety silks. Though the endless possibilities fascinated him, and he’d make sure to find out what a nightie was when he returned to D.C., what he was more concerned with was a self-consciousness in her voice that made him uncomfortable. He never wanted her to feel like he’d judge her and he wasn’t sure why she thought he would over pyjamas of all things.

“Would you be more comfortable in one of my shirts?” he asked, trying to be helpful.

“It’s oka-” she started before glancing down at the contents of her bag. “Actually, yes. I’d really appreciate that,” she replied with a shy smile.

He nodded and jumped to grab his bag, setting it on the bed and unzipping it with his good hand. He trifled through his stuff and found a heather grey shirt he hadn’t worn yet. He brought it to his face, giving it a smell check before handing it to her. “All clean,” he replied to her quirked eyebrow.

“Thank you,” she chuckled, holding his shirt to her before pulling out a tiny white scrap of fabric from her bag that made his eyes dart to the wall. “I’ll be quick,” she stated mirthfully.

“Take your time,” he called out, turning back to see she was already shutting the door to the bathroom. 

As he heard the shower turn on in the other room, he found his mind wandering to why she’d packed something apparently intimate to her on a trip like this. He’d noticed she’d been feeling substantially better since her cancer went into remission. Hell, so did he. But whereas his was pure, unadulterated relief, Scully seemed to have a new lightness. It was as if she was trying her hardest to make the most of the life she’d almost lost.

 _And this is how he is helping her do that_ , he thought sardonically to himself. 

Mulder glanced back at her bag and felt the curiosity continue to grow. For a moment he considered that she might’ve wanted to meet someone at the seminar before he banished the thought from his mind - he’d spent enough time dwelling over a certain case in Philadelphia to consider putting himself through it again. 

It was more likely for her. Scully was a woman who managed to make the simple things in life beautiful. He’d seen fresh flowers at her apartment so many times to know that she bought them for herself just because; she loved indulging in bubble baths despite her navy brat upbringing and usual staunch desire for efficiency; and it made sense to him that she’d want to celebrate the body that had finally become hers again by adorning it in silks. She’d been so thin when the cancer was at its worst. Now she was starting to fill back out, her healthy glow coming back to her cheeks, and she looked absolutely beautiful. He was glad to see she must’ve thought so too. 

Scully, true to her word, was out of the bathroom only ten minutes later. He counted to five mentally before looking at her, as to not give off the accurate impression that he couldn’t wait to see what she looked like in his clothes. The shirt looked like a dress on her, falling all the way to her knees, and he couldn’t help the beaming smile that spread across his lips. “You look adorable,” he chuckled.

“Ha. Ha,” she replied with a mirthful eyeroll. 

“It’s a good look, Scully. You look better in my clothes than I do,” he joked, before realizing how that might have sounded. 

“Thank you,” she replied with fake cockiness. 

He watched her pull her bag from the bed and set it on the floor, the shirt rising up as she bent over to reveal a sliver of white cotton between her thighs blooming up with the swell of her ass.

Mulder’s eyes darted away as he stood up with a cough. “I’m going to take a shower too. I’ll try not to be too loud while you’re trying to sleep.”

“Will you need any help?” she asked, a lilt in her voice.

“I think I’ll manage,” he replied. “I have a great doctor who’s had to give me a lot of advice about bathing with injuries over the years.”

“Holler if you need me,” she offered, slipping under the covers.

“Aye aye, Doc,” he nodded with a smirk.

It wasn’t until he was in the bathroom that he realized he’d just passed on the perfect opportunity to have Scully help him bathe. Looking at his marred face in the mirror, he murmured, “Idiot.”

He walked towards the shower to turn it on when he stepped on something. Looking down, he noticed Scully had left her clothes in there and his foot was currently tangled in Scully’s black, lacy bra. Mulder’s eyes widened in surprise as he bent down to gather the clothes in his hands so they didn’t get wet. He dumped them on the counter, rearranging them carefully when her matching underwear landed on top. 

Mulder caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and saw his face was beet red, and he didn’t need to look down to know his face wasn’t the only part of his body reacting.

_Is she trying to kill me?_

There was no way she left these in here on accident, and it made his mind run wild. Now that he thought about it, she’d been much flirtier as of late. The sentence “Maybe if it rains sleeping bags, you’ll get lucky,” ran through his head like a torturous loop. Little did she know he already thought he was a lucky sonuvabitch for being able to sleep in her arms last night. 

As he stripped and stepped into the shower, he remembered the other night when she came to his room with wine and cheese. In the moment, he’d been so focused on the case that he hadn’t given it much thought other than thinking that must’ve been all she could find at the motel. He didn’t even consider the fact that it was so out of character for Scully.

Coming to his room, packing a ‘nightie’, offering to help him bathe, indulging in his sex jokes - had he passed them all off as her being happy at the opportunity to get away from work when it might have been something more? Was Scully trying to live in the present and while he had his head in the sky, ignoring what was in front of him?

He tried not to focus on it, not wanting to spiral over the what-ifs; but between the smell of Scully’s shampoo all around him, the thought of her laying in bed with his clothes on, and the irresistible hard on currently stealing all his blood supply - he figured he should imagine what she might have been thinking so he wouldn’t embarrass himself by doing so out there.

Ten minutes later, spent and relieved, he left the shower and quickly got dressed and brushed his teeth. Scully was wearing his last shirt that wasn’t for work, so he hoped she wouldn’t be put off when she woke up to him in just his boxers laying next to her. Mulder, as quietly as he could, turned the doorknob and turned off the night. As he stepped into the room, he immediately noticed Scully had left the lights on for him, and because of that, he had a perfect view of her passed out, lying diagonally across the bed.

He didn’t peg Scully as a bed hog, but for a tiny woman she was sure managing to monopolize as much space as possible. The covers had shifted to the side so her legs were exposed, revealing an ugly pair of bruises on her knees. Mulder realized she’d been banged up from that fall and he hadn’t even had a moment to realize it. He wanted to check and see if she had any other injuries, but didn’t want to invade her privacy.

Instead, he gently grabbed her smooth calves, still warm from her shower, and pivoted them towards her side of the bed so he could have some space. He was surprised when she didn’t wake up, and it made him feel bad for how exhausted she must’ve been. Mulder pulled the cover across her and tucked it into her side to cocoon her in the blanket’s warmth. A small hum of contentment escaped her lips and it brought a smile to his.

He went about the room and turned off all the lights before slinking into his side of the bed. Despite his efforts, Scully was still taking up most of the room, which resulted in his side being flush with the edge of the bed. It didn’t help that when his weight dipped the mattress, it made Scully roll like a log into him. Again, much to his surprise, she still didn’t wake up. Instead, she pressed her forehead into his bicep as her fingers curled around his forearm, keeping him gently in place.

Trying his hardest not to jostle her, he turned his head and looked at the dark, damp strands of hair brushing against his skin. Her aquiline nose was illuminated by the moonlight as the tip brushed along the curve of his muscle while her eyelashes tickled him. If he could live in this moment forever, he’d be a happy man.

It dawned on him that their situation from last night had reversed, and now it was him watching over her as she slept. He wondered what he’d sing to her if the situations were reversed. _Hallelujah? Your Song?_ He couldn’t think of a song that lyrically conveyed ‘You are my everything’.

He hadn’t missed the way she didn’t flinch when she sang the line “ _And make sweet love to you,”_ during her rendition of _Joy to the World._ He’d felt his heart rate pick up as he mentally chanted ‘will she do it, will she do it?’ only to smile into her leg when she sang it confidently. 

_What did it mean though?_

She’d tried to instigate a conversation about mortality and he’d made a fucking joke about the Ice Capades. He couldn’t help it. Hearing the concepts of ‘Scully’ and ‘dying’ in the same sentence made his stomach turn. A world without Scully was a world without the sun: cold, bleak, unforgiving, and a world Fox Mulder had no interest in being in. He didn’t know how to have the conversation without getting upset, so he chose not to. He shut her down by taking her personal sentiments and turning it into a conversation about nature.

“Mmm,” a small voice whimpered into his side. As if even in sleep, Scully was agreeing with his mental assessment that he was an idiot.

Moving his injured arm, he let his hand rest on top of hers, deciding that for as long as he could, he would enjoy this moment.

Mulder didn’t know when the change from peaceful contentment to blinding pain happened. All he knew was that one moment he was drifting off to sleep and the next he was on the floor in agony. “Fuck,” he inhaled between clentched teeth, grabbing his arm.

Then he was blinded by light and he had to blink until Scully’s head came into focus as she peered over the side of the bed at him. “Mulder, what’re you doin’?” she asked sleepily.

“You pushed me off the bed!” he moaned, sitting up slowly.

She swung her legs off the bed and crouched beside him, apparently waking up instantly upon realizing he wasn’t on the floor for fun. “I’m so sorry,” she lamented, scanning his torso for injuries. 

He removed his hand from his injured arm so she could look, the cool touch of her fingers instantly dulling the pain - even if only in his imagination. “What hurts?” she murmured.

“I just fell on my arm weird. It’s really not that bad,” he replied, not wanting to make her feel worse than her face showed she already did. They must’ve been sleeping for a while because her hair had dried, sticking out every which way from how she’d been sleeping against the pillows. Her natural waves were present and he was glad he’d been woken up so he got a chance to see it before she straightened it in the morning. 

“You’re a bed hog. Has anyone ever told you that?” he teased, wanting to bring some levity back into the situation.

She rolled her eyes as her fingers grazed his chest. “Does your wound hurt?” she asked. 

He shook his head, enjoying the sight of her doting over him. “No, once it got cleaned out by the paramedics it felt better,” he replied, before remembering her bruises from earlier. “What about you?”

“What about me?” she asked, standing up in front of him and offering her hand to help him up. 

He almost toppled her over from the amount of help he needed getting up, but she redirected him to the bed. “I noticed earlier that you have bruises on your knees. Did you get hurt when you fell into the pit?” 

She looked down at her knees and shrugged. “A little sore, nothing too bad.”

They stared at each other a moment, as if in a mental standoff to see if the other truly was okay, until she stated, “I’m going to give you more medicine.”

“I’m fine, Scully. Really I am,” he replied, watching as she walked over to her suitcase.

“Well I’m not going to be unless you take it,” she teased with a pout. “Please, if not just to appease my guilty conscience?”

He swallowed thickly as Scully flirted with him, only this time wearing his shirt noticeably without a bra as she pouted at him. “Uh-o-okay,” he stammered in agreement.

A small smirk quirked her lip upwards as she got the medicine. She could have asked him to do anything and he’d agree if she asked like that. He adjusted himself so he was laying in bed, and then out of curiosity, reached his hand over across the expanse of the bed. Only half of it was warm, which told him just how closely they must’ve been sleeping.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, handing him a glass of water that had been on her nightstand along with his meds before she crawled into bed with him. 

“Yeah, just tired,” he nodded. 

“I’m right there with you,” she agreed with a yawn.

Mulder swallowed down the meds and handed the glass of water back to her, smiling when she took a drink of it herself. 

“You good?” he asked with his hand on the lightswitch.

“Yep, she replied, burrowing into her side of the bed.

He flicked it off and plunged them into darkness before mimicking the motion she’d just done.

Now he just felt lonely. The inches separating them felt like miles, and he wanted to pull her to him like a comfort blanket. 

There was an awkwardness in the room as they both laid there with nothing else to focus on except the fact they were lying in bed together. “Are you asleep?” he whispered.

She giggled and it was like music to his ears. “It’s been thirty seconds, Mulder. I don’t think it’s possible to fall asleep that fast without being knocked unconscious,” she replied in a whisper - as if both of them wanted to maintain the tranquility of the moment.

“I just wanted to apologi-”

“Mulder,” she sighed, ready to stop him.

“Please,” he requested, her silence permission to continue. “I’m sorry that I ruined the moment earlier.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“In the woods, when you were talking about how you were feeling,” he replied.

“Oh,” she murmured, as if surprised by his answer - then adding a more severe, “Oh,” as she registered it.

She turned on her side, facing him, and he did the same, watching her eyes roam over his face while hers was illuminated blue from the moon. “It’s okay. I think I spoke without regard to how that might have made you feel,” she admitted.

“I think I tried to make light of it without regard to how that might have made you feel,” he countered.

She exhaled a laugh and nodded. “I guess maybe we could have used the communication portion of that team building seminar after all,” she mused. “We’re not the best at being direct.”

Images of wine and cheese flashed in his mind alongside the poorly timed Ice Capades joke. “Maybe so.”

They were silent for a moment, both taking in the sight of the other in this unfamiliar setting. “I just hate thinking about it. I spent so long thinking about it, that now that it’s over, I don’t want to look back.”

The irony of them discussing their poor communication skills, immediately followed by him actively dancing around the words he hated was not lost on him.

“Me dying,” she supplemented, making his jaw clench. “Shouldn’t it be easier now?” she asked. “Speaking in past tense and not future tense about it anymore?”

She let her hand fall in between them and he took it in his own, stroking his fingers against hers lightly. “Neither will ever be easy,” he replied.

She nodded reluctantly before whispering, “Everyone dies, Mulder.”

“Not on my watch,” he replied earnestly.

A small, thoughtful smile quirked her lips as she nodded. “How about we just agree not to go unless the other is ready?” she joked.

“I’m holding you to that,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand.

Then, much to his surprise, she took him up on his metaphorical offer by turning so that her back was to him and she scooted so she was flush to his chest. “Okay,” she murmured softly. 

Deciding he wasn’t going to ignore any signs she wanted to give him anymore, he wrapped an arm around her and pressed a small kiss to a still-healing, pink scar on the back of her neck.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! -Nicole (gaycrouton on Twitter and Tumblr)


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